


through the holes in his eyes

by C0LUMBINE



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Birds, Blow Jobs, Cynophobia, First Meetings, Forests, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moving Out, Smut, Stealing, don't worry jim is alive and well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C0LUMBINE/pseuds/C0LUMBINE
Summary: Josh does not understand. But Tyler thinks, hopes he does. Among the trees, where nature allowed some free space, stands a trailer, old, beaten up and covered with moss. Josh can hear screeching coming from the inside and it only gets louder when Tyler opens the door with the help of his foot."It's not that he doesn't want you here, he's just hungry. Come in," Tyler nods towards the door.* * *Josh catches Tyler stealing from his bird feeder and wants to know why.





	through the holes in his eyes

**Author's Note:**

> hello! here is the first fic of 2019, and it's a weird one. 
> 
> disclaimer: the animal abuse is not very graphic, but just know that it's there. sorry if i missed any tags, i will add them later. hope you guys like this one! 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr: @ joshdunfiles

Josh truly doesn't want to blame a human. The idea of somebody committing such a silly, yet specific crime barely has the time to nestle underneath his skull before it's swept out by the part of his brain that contains benevolence and trust. So Josh doesn't blame a human. He blames an animal. And that doesn't come easily either.

It could be a rat; a very dextrous rat, driven by hunger and desperation. It could be a magpie; a stereotypical magpie hatched to steal and scare smaller birds away. Anything is better than blaming a human. Josh really, really doesn't want it to be a human. 

Josh is very aware of all the privileges that come with being a human. He is aware of his size, all ten fingers of his hands, his understanding of the work, pay, and exchange system. Sometimes, having an able body and sober mind that is sensitive and responsive to the unfair gulf between species is overwhelming. He wants to help as much as he can. So he doesn't blame a human. He doesn't want to think about the kind of person they must be to steal from him and subduct sustenance from beings unable to always care for themselves.

Josh admires animals. He admires his dog, even when he runs in slaloms between his legs and nearly makes him trip each morning out of pure excitement that comes with seeing his owner again. Josh admires the way his muzzle crinkles up with a huge, unselfish smile as payment for something as simple as a singular head pat. He admires the fact that he can see himself in those affable, chestnut eyes. 

Helping and not awaiting a reward in exchange enriches the soul, gives it complexity and color.

He gets up every morning and fills a bowl with black oil sunflower seed and white millet. Then, he throws on a coat and makes his way to the bird feeder outside his house, letting his dog go first and run free in the ankle-high snow. Josh can hear him snap his teeth while attempting to eat it and gives him a look of disapproval, and that's enough to make him stop.

The birds come alone, in pairs, and often in whole groups, which is when chaos unfolds and hell breaks loose at the diner. Josh enjoys sitting on the counter in his kitchen to watch them chirp and nibble at their food. Jim always stands next to him on hind legs, front propped on the counter, head tilting in curiosity. 

* * *

Josh knows something is wrong when he notices the seed's disappearance approximately fifteen minutes after being poured into the feeder. But he doesn't blame a human. He should, however, take a human into consideration.

Jim is the one who solves the mystery in the end. With paws on the counter and tail raised up high, he barks at the kitchen window, or the human outside of it, more specifically. Josh walks up to him cautiously and sees him. With an unzipped, military green parka, unzipped maroon hoodie and a white shirt all hanging messily on his shoulders, his hands are deep inside the feeder, scooping up the food to then shove it in his pockets. 

He seems unbothered by the sound of a dog, which there is no way he's unable to hear through the window. He just keeps reaching and shoving, reaching and shoving, until there's nothing left at the bottom.

Josh doesn't react at first. He hopes that this is just a one-time thing, never to happen again. He tells Jim to go lie down and walks away from the window as well. Just a one-time thing. An act of desperation. Nothing to worry about.

Wrong. All so terribly wrong.

* * *

The stranger must have a big, overwhelming responsibility on his hands to have the nerve to come back the next day to do the exact same thing - scoop up seeds and shove them in his pockets. The two zippable layers covering his sly body remain unzipped.

Josh tells Jim to stay at home this time and decides to confront the guy. He hides a portable bottle of pepper spray in his coat pocket and walks to the backyard, boots untied. 

"Hey! What are you doing?" Josh asks once he's close enough to see his face in its entirety. 

His features are unsettlingly soft. His nose is small and pointy, red sprinkled delightfully over the tip, matching the blush on his cheeks. His lips are almost an angry red, probably from being chewed on, eyebrows unkempt, unevenly plucked. His eyes are narrow, almond shaped and glazed over due to the cold wind. It's safe to assume the last time he'd shaved was at least three days ago. Everything is contained by a round face with a roughed out jawline and topped with messy, dark hair. 

He freezes at the sound of Josh's voice. "Thanks for not letting your dog out." 

Josh's eyebrows furrow. "You know you're stealing, right?" The guy nods. "I could call the cops."

The wind blows, howling and swirling between them. It raises flakes of snow in the air and makes them glisten and sparkle in the sun.

"But you won't," the stranger takes a step back and shoves the last handful of seed in the pocket of his parka. "I'm Tyler. And this," he says, pointing to the bird feeder, "is for my friend. He needs this."

Josh sighs heavily. He won't call the cops. Tyler could redeem himself. Everyone deserves a chance to confess. "What for?" 

"He's, um. He's not feeling very well. He needs food, and I can't afford to feed us both." Josh can tell he's chewing on the inside of his cheek with the way his lips twist. He's thinking of something to say in response, but he's met with Tyler's hand reaching out. It's covered in tiny, purple spots, like a litter of healed scars. "Come with me. You'll understand."

"Do you live close?" Josh asks. He usually doesn't leave for longer than half an hour without giving Jim a milk bone to chew on.

"Not really. You'll see. You'll understand."

Josh takes his hand. It's warm and dry.

* * *

Tyler does not live close. He does not live in Josh's neighborhood. He does not live two houses away. He does not live twenty houses away. He does not live in a house. 

When Tyler leads him into the nearby forest, Josh starts wondering whether he's made the right choice. Every single tree is covered with heavy layers of snow and looks exactly the same as if printed out one after another and mindlessly scattered across a stretch of empty land. Tyler, however, seems to be familiar with every tree, with every bark pattern and every scratch. He takes careful, but firm steps, touching and tracing stumps and delicate branches below thigh level with careful fingers. He holds Josh's hand with the same feather-light pressure. 

Josh looks around and feels so, so lost and confused that everything begins to swirl around in his chest and guts. Tyler stops all of the sudden and lets a hare cross their way in wide hops before continuing.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Josh asks cautiously. He hopes the tone of his voice doesn't offend Tyler.

Tyler is looking up, trying to avoid thick, old roots protruding from the ground. The sky is peeking out from between the tree needles high up there, branches untouched, enveloping the area. "I know those trees. And they know me. You should get to know them, too. It'll be easier." 

Tyler stops again and tells Josh to come closer. Josh does, letting Tyler pull at his arm to press his hand to the tallest tree in sight. Tyler guides his hand and makes his fingers stick into the slits in the bark and slide along the scars where thick branches used to hang. Josh doesn't understand it, but Tyler does. This is his land. His home.

"His name's Sahlo." Tyler pushes his hand under Josh's and moves downwards. Josh doesn't know why, but it feels appropriate to follow with his own. He reaches a hollow a couple seconds after Tyler. "Found 'im here when he was just an egg. He hatched all healthy and hungry. I had to feed him once an hour 'cause he was so loud. Wouldn't let me sleep."

Josh tries to connect ends. "Is he-"

"I'll show you. You'll understand."

* * *

Josh does not understand. But Tyler thinks, hopes he does. Among the trees, where nature allowed some free space, stands a trailer, old, beaten up and covered with moss. Josh can hear screeching coming from the inside and it only gets louder when Tyler opens the door with the help of his foot. He kicks it lightly and catches the side when it's seconds away from hitting something standing behind it. 

"It's not that he doesn't want you here, he's just hungry. Come in," Tyler nods towards the door.

With a grain of hesitation, Josh steps inside. The floor is soft and it sags under his weight like plush, soaked with liquids and bulging out in various spots. It starts out with mock tiles and transitions into a carpeted area, which Josh assumes is supposed to be a living room. There is a row of shelves in the middle, stretching from the roof to the floor and separating the two areas, but leaving just enough space for a person to move comfortably between both places. 

Josh ignores the peculiar stench that fills his nostrils and keeps walking. He knows Tyler is behind him, urging him on with no words needed. In the furthest corner of the trailer, a cage has its designated spot, on top of a table that's big enough to hold it and it only, not allowing any other objects. The legs are wonky, but the table itself looks carved out with the cage's size in mind. 

Behind the rusty bars, Josh sees him. Sahlo. Sahlo is a crow. He's quiet now that he's not all alone anymore, but his beak stays tilted open. His feathers look silky. Josh's chest heaves and something inside it tightens like a knot.

"Tyler-"

"I told you you'd understand." Tyler overtakes him and sits down by the cage. He reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a handful of millet, pushing his hand between the bars. Sahlo pecks at his fingers first, then begins to devour the snack.

"No, I don't understand," Josh says firmly. Tyler frowns, taken aback. "How could you let him live like this? He can't spread his wings in that cage. It's not big enough."

"I used to let him out every day, but he started to lose his sight a while ago so I couldn't do that anymore. He could get injured," Tyler explains. Sahlo lets out a loud screech again, demanding more food. Tyler provides. "It's safer this way."

Josh's eyes are chained to the sight. He isn't exactly sure who's in the worse situation -- Tyler, or the bird. They're both complementarily miserable. But Tyler is a human. He can take care of himself and make his own decisions. He's got a big brain and a heart that must be capable of feeling empathy. He should be able to tell the difference between good and bad. He should be able to see that this is wrong. "You're abusing him."

Tyler pours the remaining seed into the cage and gets up. He points a finger at Josh and says, "Take that back." 

Josh stands his ground. If the bird is weak, Tyler must be weak, too. Josh is not afraid of him in the slightest. "No. It's true. You're heartless."

Tyler charges at him, blinded by anger and pushes him against the shelves. Empty, glass bottles and scented candles that have lost their scent years ago fall to the floor and roll in different directions. The trail shakes and creaks violently, not prepared to host a fight. "I'm not heartless, you- you asshole," Tyler growls, grabbing a fistful of Josh's coat. "I did not let you in for you to tell me how to take care of an animal."

"Then why did you let me in? To share your sob story and hope I let you keep stealing my stuff?" No reply. "He's malnourished. You're not feeding him the right food, a simple infection could kill him."

Tyler pushes harder. Josh is inches away from getting his upper body stuck between the shelf slots. "Y'know what? I don't need your mercy. You think I won't find another bird feeder in the neighborhood? I will. I will." 

"You need to take him to the vet. And let him out, before he-" Josh doesn't get to say the last word because a great dose of piercing pain begins to spread through his shinbone. He cries out in pain and Tyler aims the second, third, fourth kick before Josh gathers his scattered strength and kicks back.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up!" Tyler screams, his legs bending under his own, crushing weight. He lets out a wheezing breath. "I saw your dog. You should be able to understand me."

"If I weren't able to take care of my dog, I would find him a new home. I wouldn't let him starve and lose his senses." 

Josh finally finds himself in a position steady enough to push him away. Tyler trips over a bottle and ends up sprawled across the couch behind him. Josh breathes out in relief.

"Yeah, right. You're only saying that 'cause you know you'll never have to do that," Tyler mumbles with reproach. He's panting heavily and not even attempting to get back up.

"You never know what's coming at you," Josh says. Tyler couldn't have lived here his entire life. A series of events had to lead him to this forest. That taken into consideration, Josh assumes he will understand.

"Get out." So, he doesn't understand.

Josh hesitates but eventually asks one last question. "What have you been feeding him? Before you started stealing from me?"

Tyler crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks away. Josh knows how to read body language, it's not that difficult. Tyler knows he's done something wrong, and he's clearly ashamed of it. "None of your business. He isn't eating as much as he used to, anyway, so you don't have to worry about seeing me again."

Josh looks around the trailer for any clues. Fortunately, the answer comes sooner than he anticipates, for in a cabinet, just inches above the floor, he can spot a familiar shade of yellow and thick, navy blue letters. He steps up to it and pulls at the handle, releasing tens of empty, plastic bags. Schwebel's Enriched Bread. Of course.

"Breadcrumbs."

Tyler picks a bottle off the floor and aims it at Josh. He misses narrowly, but it still shatters into pieces.

* * *

A couple of days pass rapidly. Josh can't take his mind off of what he had witnessed. He can still hear the sound of Tyler's screams mixed with the crow's screeching bouncing off of the walls of his head. Josh comes to the conclusion that he cannot save everyone, and that Tyler is irredeemable, which somehow helps. Knowing that he's made an attempt, even though it was unsuccessful, helps him sleep at night. He tries to forget, at least until he hears banging on his door and opens it to see Tyler on the porch, tears welling to his eyes.

"It's getting worse."

* * *

"I think I know what's up."

Tyler tilts his head up, sniffling. "Huh?"

Josh comes back to Tyler's trailer per his request and finds out that Sahlo is seated at the bottom of the cage, terrifyingly quiet and motionless. The only sign of life still left in him is his little chest rising and falling with every shallow breath he takes. His back is hunched, cheek feathers puffed up, bloody snot gathered around his nostrils. Josh can't see his clouded eyes anymore, because they're sealed shut. He doesn't want to add up to Tyler's concern, but the situation seems rather hopeless. 

"I've done some research yesterday, and, uh. Breadcrumbs can clog up intestines and cause all kinds of damage. That's why he's not eating much. He's probably in pain."

Tyler looks back at the bird and sticks a finger between the bars. Sahlo doesn't react. Usually, he would sniff it out and try to peck at it or attempt to swallow it like a worm. Tyler's bottom lip quivers. "I had no idea. I just wanted him to eat something. Anything."

Josh breathes out heavily. He wants to reach out and pat Tyler's back but retracts his hand when it's almost there. "Starving for a couple days would have been better for him, but I get it. How old is he again?"

"Almost nine."

"Okay. Please don't be mad, but I really think you should take him-"

"No," Tyler interrupts. "I'm not taking him anywhere. They won't give him back. He's mine. I don't have anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Tyler."

Sahlo props his head against the cage bars. Tyler starts crying.

* * *

Finding reception in the middle of a forest is understandably difficult, but eventually, Josh manages to call his brother and ask him to take care of his dog for the rest of the day. Jordan agrees with pleasure and promises to take him out on a long walk and fill his bowl with kibble. Josh thanks him and spends the night at Tyler's.

* * *

Sahlo dies in the morning when the clock on one of the shelves strikes 6 a.m. Josh finds out seconds after his heart stops beating. Tyler has been watching him all night, whispering apologies and petting his matted feathers. Josh could hear him say prayer after prayer, and everything continued until his soft voice turned into bismal sobbing. 

"We have to bury him," Josh explains, trying to pull Tyler away from the cage, but he's gripping the bars and crying.

"No, I don't want to," he screams and hiccups, but Josh is much stronger than him. Eventually, Tyler's hands unclench and he turns around to yank at Josh's shirt instead. Tyler buries his face in the fabric and keeps shaking with how hard he's crying.

"It's okay, Tyler, it's okay. He's not in pain anymore."

They bury him a few feet behind the trailer, close to the creak Tyler used to roam to get water. The soil is unbearably hard during this time of year, but Josh tries his best to dig a hole deep enough with a shovel Tyler gave him after half an hour of crying and begging Josh not to take Sahlo away.

Tyler holds the bird's body in his hands and hates that it's still warm underneath the layers of paper he wrapped it up with. He places it at the bottom of the hole when Josh tells him to, and drops to his knees in front of it, covering his face and crying with so much sorrow that it's silent. The pain is so loud that he's unable to let out a sound. 

Josh gives him some time to calm down, but he knows he won't be leaving Tyler's side anytime soon. Being left alone in the stage of grief can be unsafe. After ten minutes, he gently pats Tyler's shoulder.

"You need to eat something. You can come back with me," Josh offers humbly. When Tyler looks up at him, Josh frowns. He looks horrible, eyes red and puffy, lips swollen, face wet with tears he smeared all over it. Josh can't begin to describe how bad he feels for him.

"No. You- you have a dog. He'll hate m-me."

Josh smiles sympathetically. He wishes Tyler knew how wrong he was. "He won't hate you. He doesn't hate anyone."

"He kept b-barking at me when h-he saw me outside." 

Josh doesn't reply right away. He crouches in front of Tyler instead, pressing a tissue to his left cheek, then his right cheek, letting it soak up his tears. He gently cups his chin and presses the tissue right under his nose. Tyler takes the tissue and pushes Josh's hand away.

"Honestly, you looked suspicious. He just wants to protect his territory. I'll make sure he's nice to you."

Tyler blows his nose, and when he looks down at the contents, he sees blood. "I killed an animal, Josh. I can't."

"He doesn't know. And he won't mind."

* * *

It takes a lot of strength for Tyler to say goodbye to his trailer. Before he leaves with Josh, he stuffs all his clothes into a backpack, and it only then hits him how scarce his possession is. Most of his shirts are covered in stains and holes, so it's only correct to leave them behind. Traveling with a bulk of unpleasant memories could give him back pain and make him too weak. To escape the past and start over, he needs to be at his sharpest. He doesn't want to crawl towards the future. He wants to walk with his head up high and eyes focused on the light.

Tyler realizes that he was unwarily doing himself a favor when he suggested Josh made himself familiar with the trees. Josh is stronger and more stable, mentally, and leads them both until the thicket recedes and their feet reach concrete. 

Tyler tries his hardest not to cry anymore. He knows Josh's brother is waiting for them at home, and he doesn't want to be remembered as the guy who couldn't deal with his own problems and continued to weep until somebody came to pull him out of despair and shut him up.

Josh's house seems inviting. Fairy lights are still hanging just above the door, and there's a mat in the front with 'welcome' embroidered onto it. Josh unlocks the door and seconds after, his dog is charging at him excitedly, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Look who's back, Jimmy!" 

Josh and his brother don't look alike very much at first sight. But at the same time, Jordan is almost a perfectly identical copy of him, with a head full of curly hair, the same, uniquely shaped eyes and an honest smile that matches both Josh's and his dog's. He's sat on the carpet in front of the fireplace in the living room, holding a box of dog treats in one hand, and a squeaky toy in the other. His pink shirt and black jeans are covered with golden fur which he doesn't bother to flick off after getting up.

Josh embraces his dog and ruffles his fur, laughing softly when he responds with a face lick. "Thanks for staying with him, dude. Was he good?"

"So good," Jordan praises, patting Jim's head. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, yeah, that's Tyler. He's, uh, dealing with pet loss. I'm trying to cheer him up."

Tyler doesn't know what to do when Jordan looks over at him and, god, he's still smiling. He gives off a vibe that's hard to describe, kind of like a friend you haven't hung out with in a long while but missed them every single day when you were apart. Does Tyler shake his hand? Wait. No.

"Is he doing a good job?" Jordan asks, tilting his head. 

Tyler hesitates for a second because it's hard for him to gather his words and sculpt them into a sentence. There is so much going on. He's overwhelmed. "I dunno. I think so?"

Jordan's laugh sounds scarily similar to Josh's, except softer, unbothered by worries, honest, less serious. Jordan raises his arms, and Tyler knows what's coming. "Man, you look like you need one," Jordan says and steps up to Tyler do deliver a warm, comforting embrace. It doesn't feel forced. Tyler leans into it and inhales the scent of woodchips and what he assumes is Jim's scent that rubbed off on him. He cannot think of a more comforting smell right now.

"Thanks. I guess I did need it," Tyler mumbles against his shoulder. Jordan lets go of him.

"Call me if my brother turns out to suck at this. Use his phone," he advises. 

Josh rolls his eyes and hands him his jacket, saying, "Alright, Jordan, he needs to rest."

"Gotcha." Jordan takes it without complaints and throws it over his shoulders. He looks at Tyler one more time before heading towards the door. "See you around?"

"Yeah." Tyler nods. "See you."

In the blink of an eye, Jordan is gone, and Josh nudges Jim in Tyler's direction. They have to get familiar with each other if Tyler wants to stay over for a while.

"Your brother's nice. Does he come over often?" Tyler asks. For some strange reason, he decides he'd really like to see him again sometime. 

Josh laughs shortly, waiting for the situation to unfold. "He likes to run with Jim once or twice a week, so yeah. I guess you could say so."

"Cool."

Jim has no trouble approaching Tyler. He's curious, but stays wary, sniffing Tyler's leg. Tyler's heart nearly gives out in his chest, but he tries to remember what Josh had told him. Jim is a nice dog. He doesn't hate anyone.

"What is he doing?" Tyler asks, completely frozen. He knows how dogs work -- one wrong move and they sink their teeth into your leg, tugging until their teeth reach your bones and your blood stains their tongues. Josh could say one thing, but he could not erase an animal's instincts. Most dogs only pretend to be obedient and submissive, but in reality, they're watching every person in the house to identify the weakest link and find a perfect moment to attack. Tyler did not have to get stitches in his calf a year ago for no reason. They can smell fear. He knows dogs. He knows-

"Just sniffing you. He doesn't know you." Josh shrugs, watching both of them. His arms are crossed in front of his chest.

Tyler doesn't like how much trust Josh puts in that dog. He slowly inches away from him. "Can he stop?" 

"Yeah. C'mon, Jim, go to your place," Josh gives him a simple command, and Jim understands the words, backing out and walking towards the bolster bed in the corner of the living room. His claws are clinking against the floor until he lies down.

Tyler sighs with relief. "Do you think he disliked me?" 

"Who? My dog?" 

"No, Sahlo. I really thought I was doing the right thing. He would have died before even breaking the shell if I hadn't found him."

Josh clicks his lips, thinking. He wraps his arms around himself again, almost as if in attempt to shield himself. He shrugs again, uncertain. "I don't know. You had good intentions. You just didn't know how to take care of him, I guess."

"I didn't know, yeah." Tyler doesn't want Josh to feel uncertain about him. He wants facts, opinions, judgment and a clear verdict. Josh isn't giving him any of those things, and Tyler can't help but think he's still mad at him for letting an animal live in such poor conditions. He's certain that Josh hates him and is sending the most powerful beings known to high heavens upon him to take care of his cruel soul, but is providing shelter to keep his own account clean. 

Tyler starts crying again because there is finally nobody else in the house to watch him besides Josh. And Josh has seen him cry before. He knows Tyler's tears. It feels better for Tyler to cry in front of somebody who knows how his sorrow looks and sounds.

Tyler finds out that Josh's hugs are just as comforting as Jordan's, only a little less warm now that he just came back from the outside. Josh holds him tight, lets him cry, and waves at Jim when he tries to get up and help. Jim lies down again and whines.

"Am I a horrible person?" Tyler asks through tears. 

"Do you feel bad about what you've done?" 

"You have no idea."

Josh rubs Tyler's back and rests his chin on top of his head. He's only able to do it because Tyler's legs are bent, and so is his back. "Then you're not. You cried for like three hours, dude. A horrible person wouldn't even care. And, um. Sorry for calling you heartless. You're not heartless. I misjudged you and I'm sorry. "

Tyler hugs him a little tighter.

* * *

Josh suggests changing clothes and taking a nap, and doesn't think about it too much, because Tyler simply agrees. The last thing he expects to see when he enters the bathroom downstairs is Tyler, sitting on the toilet board, pants rolled down to his ankles, the rest of his clothes strewed all over the floor. 

Josh crouches in front of him and starts picking everything up. "Tyler? What's wrong?" 

Tyler shrugs. He's staring off into the distance. "Jus' not feeling well."

"Want me to help you with anything? Just tell me. I'm here."

Tyler doesn't reply. The way he blinks and breathes raises concern. He's been crying all day, Josh assumes his eyes must hurt, and his lungs are struggling to handle his forceful sobs. He presses a hand to Tyler's forehead. It's too warm. Josh doesn't have a thermometer he could use to measure Tyler's temperature, but simply checking with a hand is enough. 

Tyler grabs Josh by the wrist and pulls his hand away. He sighs, staring into his eyes now. Josh can't help but return the gaze. It feels like the most appropriate thing to do -- just examine each other and take in details.

"Am I even worthy of you?" Tyler asks.

Josh huffs out a breath. "Course you are. But I'm not the greatest person out there. You probably deserve better."

Tyler nods, understanding. "Your eyes, there's something about 'em. Kinda troubled, like mine. I like 'em."

It makes perfect sense. Even though their eyes are nothing alike in terms of shape, the color of the iris is similar, and the bags right under are matching. Josh looks into Tyler's and sees some of his own troubles and worries. He doesn't know whether they're both struggling and it shows through their eyes like a clear window, or if his own problems are simply reflecting in Tyler's eyes. It could be both. Josh wishes Tyler knew how much they have in common. Maybe one day he will tell him, and Tyler will find out that their eyes are full of sorrow because they have witnessed similar things, been absent spectators of inadvertent tragedy.

"Thanks. I like yours too."

Tyler scoffs, and Josh smiles up at him. It's a positive change of mood. "The right's kinda bigger than the left."

"Nothing wrong with that," Josh says, tracing Tyler's thigh with a gentle finger. He expects everything -- inching away from touch, a push, a kick, even. But he doesn't expect a sharp intake of breath and fingers tightening around his wrist. Tyler shudders, and his eyes narrow. Josh asks, "Is this okay?"

Tyler nods, but he still looks unsure. Josh understands, or he wants to, at least. He wants to crawl underneath Tyler's skin and find out what he's craving. He wants to give Tyler exactly what he needs, and he imagines the route to fulfillment is not very long in his case.

Tyler doesn't need much; reassurance, comfort, a warm hand grasping his thigh, and another hand releasing itself from under his grip to touch his chest -- simple needs. Minimum effort. Maximum satisfaction. Josh's hands are warm and rough, his skin lacking just a little moisture for Tyler's taste. But they're roaming up his body to ease him into the feeling of touch after a lengthy break, and it's all that matters.

"This isn't too much, is it? Aren't you-"

"No," Tyler cuts in. He doesn't want Josh to be concerned. "I think- I think I need this. That's not, um, weird, right?"

Josh smiles. "Not at all. Good distraction."

"Yeah."

Josh is gentle, but when he delivers a new sensation, he delivers it with intent and reasonable intensity. He moves his hand to twist one of Tyler's nipples, and Tyler's body unfurls before him at the feeling, tensing up. He sighs quietly, and Josh leans in to press a kiss to jaw, cheek, and eventually, his mouth. Tyler's lips are chapped, but it's not a detail that Josh wants to pay attention to. He can pick and choose what to focus on, and right now, it's the way Tyler whines against his lips and leans into his touch, asking for more. It's the taste of toothpaste in Tyler's mouth and his breath getting quicker, skin growing warmer. 

Josh keeps a steady hand on Tyler's thigh, inching closer, closer, closer, trying to see where Tyler's comfort zone has its boundary. But Tyler doesn't tell him to stop. Instead, he breathes out a "please" and pulls him closer. Josh traces the delicate skin of Tyler's balls with his fingers and gives them a light squeeze. Tyler gasps, Josh kisses him again, and then his fingers curl around the base of Tyler's cock. It's half-hard and hot in his hand. 

"You're a good person, Tyler. You deserve good things. So, so many good things," Josh grunts, spits on the head of Tyler's dick and pulls a long, slow stroke. Tyler convulses and keens deeply, struggling to sit still.

"Yes. Yes, yes," he babbles and gives himself up. Josh begins to get a little more confident with his strokes, and Tyler begins to feel a little more alive.

Tyler's voice is scratchy and high pitched when he moans and repeats Josh's name for the hundredth time. Josh loves the way he fucks up into his fist, but he still pulls off for a second, just to look at Tyler's cock now that it's fully hard and flushed. He wants to put his mouth on it. He does. Tyler cries out. He tangles his fingers in Josh's hair and Josh finally lets out a pleased sound, too. Tyler soaks it up and then returns it.

Josh's knees hit the bathroom tiles, and the tip of Tyler's cock hits the back of his throat. The tip of his nose stays buried in Tyler's soft pubic hair for a moment, all until he pulls back. The way he bobs his head is slow, drawn out, torturous, but everything is done in good spirit. Josh wants to make Tyler feel something, something intense, something stronger than anything else. Pleasure is powerful and addicting. He wants Tyler to feel it.

Tyler's back is painfully arched now, flushed chest exposed. Josh reaches up to press a thumb to Tyler's nipple, and it's nothing much, but it's enough. It's so much. It's too much.

Tyler partially comes down Josh's throat, pushing his cock in and out of his mouth. Then, Josh pulls out to stroke it again and let Tyler's cum spurt all over his chest. Tyler shakes his way through it all, and it's amazing how quickly his body softens.

"Thank you," Tyler says, panting heavily. 

Josh kisses him again.

* * *

Tyler becomes more and more comfortable with living here as time goes on. He still doesn't trust Jim, but he does trust Josh. They have a connection. It's deeper than he thinks.

A few days pass, and Josh decides it is time. 

"I think you deserve to see something. Sorry for not showing you earlier, I had no idea how to go about this."

They're both standing next to the basement door, Josh barefoot, Tyler wearing Josh's slippers. Jim is watching them from a safe distance on the carpet in the living room, a stuffed toy tucked under his chin. Tyler looks over at him for a moment and decides that he looks concerned. 

"What is it?" Tyler asks.

"Can I tell you when we're down there? You have to see first. You won't believe me."

"Okay."

Josh unlocks the door and goes first. Tyler follows him hesitantly but has a feeling that it's something important, regardless of where it's located. Josh's basement is clumped with boxes and old furniture. Tyler notices a drum kit in one of the corners but doesn't ask. He wants to know, but he doesn't ask.

Josh stops in front of an old, dust-covered desk. Tyler stands next to him and waits, fixing a slipper that slipped off his foot just a little while he was walking downstairs. Josh opens one of the drawers, and there is nothing inside it but a box. An old, pale box, color washed away. Tyler thinks it might have been yellow before it got shoved in there and left for long enough to lose its color. It looks like a shoe box, but the name of the brand can't be read anymore.

"I opened the door one day, and she was here. I tried to lure her back upstairs with food, but she never wanted to leave. She loved this place so much, I just- it felt right to do this. After she died."

"What're you talking about?" Tyler's eyebrows furrow with confusion. Josh's hands are shaking when he opens the box.

Inside of it is a pile of bones, void of tissue. Just bare bones, out of order, lifeless, and when Josh gently shakes the box, a tiny skull comes into sight. Tyler's eyes widen with disbelief, and his chest tightens. Never for a second did he think Josh could have something like this in his basement. Looks like it used to be a cat. It was definitely a cat.

"Josh-"

"I put medicine in her food when she was sick. I gave her water. I tried so many times to bring her upstairs, but she just didn't want to leave. And when she died- I dunno. I didn't want her to hate me," Josh spits his words out in a rush, not letting Tyler interrupt. He leans against the desk and sighs heavily, head hanging low. 

Tyler's eyes fill with tears, but he doesn't cry. He doesn't want to do it in front of Josh again. "You tried your best, it's okay."

"I'm so sorry, Tyler. I was mean to you when I shouldn't have been. I couldn't get over myself, and I didn't want you to end up making the same mistakes." 

Tyler pats Josh's shoulder. "You understand."

Josh nods. "I understand."

* * *

/p>

Tyler doesn't tell Josh what to do. He doesn't want to force Josh to arrange his thoughts and beliefs in a way that would fit his own. They both made mistakes. They both made poor choices. 

Tyler wakes up one morning slinks into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The world around him is quiet, as befits the morning. The only pair of eyes staring at him while he drinks are Jim's. Tyler stares back, even though he knows he shouldn't. Jim belongs to the family, and it's undeniable. He's got the same pair of kind eyes that Josh does, and he's filled with implicit love and unreasonable joy, just like Jordan. It's strange and scary, how much a pet can resemble its owners. Tyler quietly hopes Jim doesn't inherit any of his own traits. He takes a chance.

He puts the empty glass on the counter. "C'mere," he says quietly and pats his own thigh.

Jim gets up immediately and runs towards him with his tail raised high and swaying left and right. Tyler crouches and embraces him, staying as careful as possible. Jim pushes his head into Tyler's chest and his entire body moves along with his wagging tail. Tyler's heart is racing. He could cry.

"You don't hate me," he whispers. "You really don't hate me."

Jim licks Tyler's chin.

* * *

Tyler doesn't tell Josh about what happened. He just offers to take Jim on a walk when Josh finally wakes up and joins him in the kitchen. 

"Are you sure you can handle him? He's still learning how to walk on a leash." Josh's hair is messy and his boxers are hanging low on his hips. He scratches his bare stomach, just above the belly button. 

"Yeah, I'll be okay. It'll be a short walk."

Josh smiles. "Okay."

* * *

When Tyler comes back home, he takes the collar off of Jim's neck and rushes to hide in the bathroom before Josh can get off the couch in the living room. 

He doesn't have the time to take off his coat or shoes, but it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter. He leans against the closed door and reaches inside the pocket with a shaky hand. 

Tyler's fingers uncurl and a shaky breath escapes his lungs.

Tyler is holding a small, spotted egg. Vicious circle. 


End file.
